Risk
by JustJasper
Summary: Written for the CM Prompt Meme r3: AU on LJ. Morgan is a high-end escort, Reid is a client. Feelings happen.


The first time, they met in a nice room at a nice hotel in the city, with large windows looking out over the night. That wasn't new to Derek, as all of his clients paid a considerable price for his services, and many of them spent a lot. Spencer was nice, nervous, and if the five times he was able to orgasm in their two hour time slot was any indication, incredibly horny.

"Please, please," Spencer panted, fisting his hands in soft cotton sheets. "Hnnghh, please!" As Derek dragged his lips over the man's shoulder as he continued to fuck him, he found himself hoping the man would seek his services again.

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><p>+o+<p>

* * *

><p>"I've never paid for sex before," Spencer said the second time, in a different hotel.<p>

"How come?" Derek – or Dorian, as the name he worked under – asked, as Spencer towelled himself dry. He'd taken a shower before Derek had arrived the first time, too, which he didn't mention was initiative he didn't experience but and he really appreciated.

"Honestly?" Spencer considered him. "I've never had enough disposable income until now. New job."

"No conflicting feelings, about seeking out a sex worker?" Derek asked, slipping off his jacket.

"Not really," Reid shrugged, holding his towel around his waist as he padded over to the coffee table, picking up the envelope there and handing it to Derek. "Sex work is most likely the oldest profession in humanity's history, and it's certainly one that's been recorded for thousands of years. Changing attitudes to sexuality have changed the societal response to sex work."

"That's surprisingly refreshing to hear." Morgan discreetly counted the money and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

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><p>+o+<p>

* * *

><p>The fifth time, they got talking about Vonnegut before they could start having sex, and the two hours were almost up before Morgan realised it.<p>

"I'm sorry, this wasn't very professional of me," he said.

"What?" Reid looked confused.

"I'll give you your money back for tonight."

"Oh. No, don't. You do offer companionship as part of your service, right? And escort to events, and such?"

"Yes, but I thought you wanted sex."

"I thought I did too, but then we got talking," Spencer shrugged, "and I was enjoying our conversation."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, very much so."

* * *

><p>+o+<p>

* * *

><p>On the sixth time, Derek was surprised when Spencer wanted to suck his cock. Although his agent David knew to find out what the client wanted so he wouldn't book anyone who expected to fuck him, it was rare that a client wanted to suck him off. It wasn't merely part of foreplay, either; Spencer pushed him down into a chair and got on his knees.<p>

"Can I do this?" he asked, slowly unzipping Derek's pants.

"If – if you want."

"I want," Reid said as he extracted the man's cock from the confines of his trousers and underwear. "I really want."

Reid was attentive and eager, lapping and sucking at his flesh, and from the moans and laboured breathing it seemed to Derek he was becoming very aroused as he stimulated the other. He kept going when Morgan warned him, swallowing him down and gripping his thighs hard.

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><p>+o+<p>

* * *

><p>The tenth time, Spencer ordered takeout and they sat and ate it on the bed after sex in the shower.<p>

"Dorian isn't your real name, is it?" Spencer asked.

Derek considered him, using chopsticks to feed himself, while Spencer struggled with his own. One of them tumbled out of his fingers and he swore, making Morgan chuckle.

"Here," he said, setting his carton aside and taking Reid's hand. He positioned his fingers, using his own to guide where Spencer placed his.

"I need a fork."

"No forks here. Let me." Derek took the chopsticks and picked up a mouthful of Reid's food, offering it to him. Reid smirked at him, then took the offered portion.

"Thanks."

"Derek."

"What?"

"My name; it's Derek."

He took another bite that Derek offered, fingers loose on the man's wrist.

"Can I call you that?" He lifted his gaze to Derek's. "When we're alone?"

"Yeah," he answered, a little sooner than he thought he probably should have.

* * *

><p>+o+<p>

* * *

><p>The thirteenth time, Spencer babbled Derek's name, his real name, as he came apart under him.<p>

"Derek, Derek, please, I'm close, Derek, please don't stop," he moaned. Morgan didn't stop, pushing the back of Reid's knee and slamming his hips against him faster.

"Come on, cum for me pretty boy."

"Derek! Fuckfuck, Derek!"

A spare hand between them got Spencer off quickly, making him arch and moan under him.

* * *

><p>+o+<p>

* * *

><p>The fourteenth time, Derek gave Spencer head and swallowed, forgetting his rule of discreetly spitting after oral, and he forgot to ask for his money right until the end of the session.<p>

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><p>+o+<p>

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><p>The fifteen time, Reid asked him to escort him to a charity function in aid of the research he worked on. They drank champagne from flute glasses – Derek nursed his to keep a clear head – and mingled with the other guests.<p>

"Is it mostly men who seek your service?" Spencer asked, as they stood amongst throngs of people paying them no attention.

"No, I actually get more female clients. I also have more women regulars. Men are limited in what they can do with me sexually, so to speak, there are other escorts who offer more."

"How many regulars do you have?"

"Er, six, right now." Normally he would have shut down such line of questioning, but Spencer was curious and interested rather than prying and judgemental.

"What counts as regular?"

"At least once a month for at least three months."

"Is that a normal timeline?"

"It varies. I have a couple of monthlies," Derek explained, "more often they're like you, every few weeks with no strict pattern. I have one guy who books me twice a week to come to his office after hours and suck his cock."

"You don't usually go to a place that isn't neutral, though."

"Oh- no. My agent vouched for him, they're old friends or something," Morgan sipped at his drink. "And there's one woman I visit at her home, because she's agoraphobic and can't leave the house. Not that I'm sure she wants to, she's got a great setup with a bunch of computers. Then I have a regular couple-"

"A couple?" Spencer's interested had been caught, as he leant forward minutely.

"Two women, they like a third person sometimes."

"It sounds like an interesting career."

"I meet some interesting people." He nodded, smiling to himself. "I met you."

* * *

><p>+o+<p>

* * *

><p>"How do you stay safe?" Spencer asked, in the aftermath of the nineteenth time. "Or at least minimise risk."<p>

"I stick to the rules. My agent vets my clients, weeds out ones with obvious issues," Morgan said, stroking Reid's hair. "Get payment upfront, count it. You can usually tell right off the bat if something's not right, so about ten minute into the booking I get a phonecall and I confirm everything's okay. There are certain phrases my agent knows to look out for, and if he hears them he'll call the cops and come get me."

"How often has that happened?"

"Not often. Once, this last year. Maybe a dozen times in the last seven. Then there's other stuff, like I use condoms every time, I don't do BDSM, we send people to professionals for that. I don't let a client tie me up, I don't drink on the job, unless I'm booked for the night and it's a public event like we went to the other week, and then only one glass. I don't eat or drink anything that was in the room before I got here, and I don't do sessions if the client wants to use recreational drugs, or abuse prescription ones. Except Viagra."

"Right," Spencer murmured, snuggling into Derek's chest.

"Tell me," Morgan said with a smile in his voice, "worried, or just interested?"

"Both? Yes, both."

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

* * *

><p>+o+<p>

* * *

><p>The twentieth time, Derek didn't show up.<p>

* * *

><p>+o+<p>

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><p>The actual twentieth time, the night after Derek hadn't showed, he saw in Spencer a panic that was unfamiliar when he registered his bruised cheek and split lip. When the bruising around his wrists was revealed Reid's demeanour changed, taking command of the encounter, lavishing Morgan's flesh with attention, fingers ever so softly touching the bruised skin of one wrist as he ran the other over heated flesh.<p>

"Your safeguards..." he murmured against his chest. Derek smiled sadly when Spencer met his eyes, full of concern.

"Not foolproof."

"Did you call the police?"

"No."

"Derek, do you need to talk about what happened?"

"Spencer, this is your time, c'mon," he murmured, running his free hand along Reid's naked back.

"I know," Reid pushed himself up, and Morgan followed suit, so they were sitting together in the middle of the bed. "I want to know whether you're okay."

"I'm fine. I got paid." Morgan watched as Reid cringed.

"If one of your clients did something that you didn't want, it's still-"

"Spencer, please don't."

"Okay," the other man nodded, smoothing his hands down Morgan's arm in a gesture that he was letting the questioning go. "Sorry. It's just-" he leant forward, kissing him, and Derek didn't know if he was more disappointed or relieved that Spencer didn't continue the sentence.

* * *

><p>+o+<p>

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><p>The thirty-fifth time, Derek slept over at the hotel where he'd had a session with Spencer the previous night. He woke up spooning his client, face buried in his mane of curly hair. For a full five minutes he basked in the soft light of morning, kissing Spencer's neck and running his hands over thigh before he realised he shouldn't have stayed.<p>

He extracted himself from the bed and dressed quietly so he didn't wake the other. He took his money and left, but left his card on the bedside table in the hopes Spencer would consider it a sign that he could call again, while avoiding discussion of the fact he's stepped right over a professional line.

Three weeks later and Spencer still hadn't booked him again.

* * *

><p>+o+<p>

* * *

><p>The thirty-sixth time, a full month after the last time, Morgan's cock was still residually hard inside Spencer as he sat astride him, panting in the aftermath of his orgasm when the younger man spoke, without mentioning what had happened the last time.<p>

"What would someone have to do for you to stop seeing them as a client?"

"You don't want to see me anymore?"

"Of course I do. I mean, on your part. What would make you cut someone off?"

"Breaking my ground rules," Derek said, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "Trouble with payment. Or-" he paused, meeting Reid's eyes, "becoming infatuated with me to the point where they were pushing for our relationship to become a sexual one outside of the context of escort and client. The sneaky way to get it for free."

"Right." Spencer rolled off and got off the bed, wandering naked to the window. "And what about you?" he asked, without looking back as Morgan disposed of the condom. "What if you get infatuated?"

"I don't."

"Have you had relationships outside of your work?"

"They don't really work," Morgan sighed. "I like honesty, and as soon as they find out, if they don't want to end it right off because you're a sex worker, they get jealous. It ends one of two ways; they admit they can't deal with the jealousy and they leave, or they get entitled and think because you have sex for money they don't have to respect your boundaries. In which case you leave before they pin you to the bed and fuck you, then offer you money and call it one for business when you tell them you didn't want it."

He knew he'd said too much when Spencer's head snapped around, lips parted and eyes expressively empathetic as he looked at him.

"In fact," he went on recklessly, shrugging as if it was casual conversation and not meeting Reid's eyes, "I've heard the sentiment that because I'm a whore whatever the other person wants is fine, as long as they pay me many more times from outside romantic partners than people who pay for sex."

"I'm sorry."

"And what about you?" Derek asked, feeling ruffled and exposed, reaching for his clothing. "Do you have romantic relationships outside of seeing me?"

"I-" Spencer looked taken aback, surprised by the amount of venom in the question. "Derek, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"it's fine." Morgan pulled his boots on and slipped into his jacket, patting the pocket containing his payment. "I hope you had a good time."

"I do every time."

"That's because I'm good at this job." He softened a little. "I hope I'll see you soon, Spencer."

* * *

><p>+o+<p>

* * *

><p>"I've seen you forty times now," Spencer said, as Derek washed his back in the large tub in the hotel bathroom.<p>

"Not regretting it, are you?" he chuckled.

"No, but I have been thinking. What is this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you have a relationship like this one with any of your other clients? Because I've been confused. I didn't expect it to be like this. I don't know whether I'm reading things wrong."

"How are you reading them?"

"I think I have non-platonic feelings for you, I think you know it, and I think you have romantic feelings for me too," he said, all in one breath. Derek blinked, not surprised at the candour, but not really surprised at the content, because Spencer's words were true.

"I can't date a client."

"Then I won't be your client anymore," Spencer said, turning around with some difficulty, hooking his legs around Derek's waist. "And I won't be jealous. I know you enjoy your work, I wouldn't ask you to stop, I wouldn't ask you to do anything you didn't want."

"You're my client."

"Derek, tell me you don't feel like I do and I'll leave you alone. Ask me to go and I will."

"I can't see you anymore," Morgan murmured, throat suddenly dry. "You can't be my client."

"Okay." Reid nodded to himself, attempting to disentangle himself from Morgan, hands gripping the sides of the tub. "Okay."

"Spencer, wait," he grabbed his arm, slick with water so linked his fingers around the man's wrist to keep him from leaving his proximity. "I mean I can't see you like this. I can't... this could work, couldn't it?"

Reid sat down again, water sloshing around them, and his face full of hope.

"We could make it work," he said. "We could go on dates; dinner, movies. You could come to my apartment, we don't have to do hotels. You can sleep over."

Derek swallowed, without looking away. This man, who had paid him for sex for almost two years, who had opened up to him with the freedom such an arrangement allowed, was sitting in a hot bath full of bubbles asking for them to be together.

Nothing had ever seemed more worth the risk.


End file.
